


The Man I Once Was

by Darth_Tantrum



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Depression, First Person: Havoc, M/M, POV First Person, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Tantrum/pseuds/Darth_Tantrum
Summary: Since his injury, Jean Havoc feels like a broken man and can't help but lament what might have been.





	The Man I Once Was

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my LiveJournal account way back in 2009. I found my old stuff while going through... old stuff... and thought I might as well post it here. Because why not? Aside from a few very minor tweaks, I'm posting this nearly exactly as I wrote it all those years ago.
> 
> So. Who's ready for some angst-pain?

I lay in this hospital bed a damaged, broken, shell of the man I once was. I used to pride myself on being able to get the job done. I was a solider, damn it; and, a damn fine one, at that! I devoted my life to this military, but now that's over.

I'm of no use to them in my current state. I'm of no use to anyone, like this.

I have to stay here for a month before they'll let me out. Even though I can't walk and never will again, I still have upper body physical therapy to help me regain some of the strength I've lost. I try to argue that if they'll just let me out and on with my life, I'll regain the strength myself by actually going out and doing things, but they refuse. They also want to monitor me for depression, since the military was my life.

It's ridiculous.

But, even so, the colonel comes and visits me every day, at least for a few minutes to check on how physical therapy is going. Every few days or so he brings a new bouquet of flowers to replace the ones beginning to wilt on my bedside table.

He really is a remarkable man.

His constant attention makes me wonder if he might feel something for me—something more than a superior should feel towards his subordinate. I shake those thoughts off when they come, though. I know that's all just wishful thinking on my part.

Maybe in the past he might have looked at me that way, but not now. Like I told him, I'm no good to him, now.

I'm no good to anybody, now. I'm just a damaged, broken, shell of the man I once was.

Still, though, he comes every day, offering me a smile and kind words. There's a softness in his eyes that reminds me of what might have been, had I been a little more careful.

There's a gentle sadness in his face that makes me think he thinks of that, too.


End file.
